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  Then she saw only his backside as he scuttled away before the anger and betrayal coalesced into words. As soon as he had dropped from view, a litany of verbal lashings tumbled into her mind, useless and maddening.

  “No worry,” Drosa said while punching Ishe in the arm. “He your mother’s band, not yours. You, me, and Eyah, we make baby dragon steaks.”

  Still, the ceremony had been fast, at least, and they were done swearing to never reveal the location of the High Tree mine to outsiders before the giant green-legged spider was harnessed.

  That was mostly Blinky’s fault. He had approached her with his front legs held high and his middle ones flapping in what was apparently an amorous manner. Sparrow had stirred from his funk. “No, Blinky, leave her alone; she’s not going to like you.”

  Fenria did indeed hiss a warning as Blinky danced side to side, the crystals on his back glowing brighter than Ishe had ever seen. Her handler whispered sweet soothing sounds to the great spider as he hastily tried to secure the harness. Yet just as he was struggling with the last buckle, Blinky passed whatever invisible line she considered her personal space. With a soundless lunge, she tried to impale poor Blinky on her saber-sized fangs. Blinky sprang straight up into air to avoid the deadly strike and landed on her head.

  This did not improve her mood; the giant spider screeched and tried to club him off with her thick, hairy legs. Blinky, finally getting the hint that his advances weren’t appreciated, ran down her length. He skittered straight over the flailing handler, raced over the float barge, and hid behind Sparrow’s legs.

  Everyone stopped laughing as Fenria shrugged off her handler and charged Sparrow, front legs raised to smash and black fangs flashing wetly. Drosa and the shaman administering the oath both dived behind a pile of equipment. Ishe took a few steps back, but Sparrow didn’t budge as the fangs came within inches of his shoulders. A small smirk appeared on his sunken face as the spider froze. He murmured, “Beautiful,” in Low River. “You’re a big, beautiful girl and Blinky is sorry to have annoyed you.”

  Blinky peeked out from behind Sparrow’s legs and grumble-clicked. It didn’t sound like a very sincere apology.

  Yet the riding spider seemed mollified; her pedipalps covered her fangs and her legs lowered as she turned, her bulbous abdomen brushing up against Sparrow like a cat against a leg. It left Sparrow grinning like a fool.

  Ishe stepped close. “How’d you know she wasn’t about to smash you like a bug?”

  “Does Blinky ever charge if he means business?” Sparrow asked as they watched Fenria pick up her handler and gently place him on her back.

  “Only if he wants to scare someone.” Ishe remembered the way he’d charged the Dragonsworn.

  “Precisely. If they’re truly angry, they’ll wait for your back to be turned, and then”—Sparrow made two fingers as if they were fangs—“it’s all over.”

  A shiver passed through Ishe as the giant spider settled back in front of the cart, its great abdomen heaving with a sigh.

  “You all crazy,” Drosa grumbled as she rejoined the two of them.

  Blinky clicked.

  “Yeah, you too, fuzzy-legs,” Drosa said.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  If a dragon downs your ship, just run away. It’s not after you. It wants the cargo. Dragon hunters will give you at least a round of drinks for news of an older juvenile.

  Osada Kimi, customs official

  Once harnessed, the barge practically flew as Fenria charged up the wide dirt road, sprinting as if the weight of the three of them plus Unyet and five High Tree warriors were nothing. She deftly wove around an occasional loaded ore barge being pulled by a mule. The High Tree tribe had extended the branches of the trees on either side of it over its top, creating a green roof that probably made it impossible to see from above. Ishe expected the road to terminate at the foot of the mountains, but instead, the road widened out into a clearing before they had taken any detectable turn west. A dome constructed of still-living greenery covered a hole in the ground nearly forty feet wide.

  Ishe had no time to peer at the operation, however, as Fenria plunged into a forest path. Everyone had to grab hold of the barge’s planks as its edges knocked against trees and branches slapped at them. The distinct oily odor of burning liftwood coated the air, and Unyet ordered Fenria to stop. The spider’s abdomen heaved and whistled as she immediately slumped to the ground. “Thank the wind spirits for bringing us that smoke,” Unyet prayed as he shoved a hand cannon into Ishe’s palm with a belt of water and ice shells. “You’re fire control. Use that to get what you need.”

  He offered a heavy crossbow to Drosa, but she refused it in favor of her own stout hunting bow. Sparrow took nothing.

  Now armed, Ishe and Drosa found themselves in the lead of Unyet and the four warriors he had brought with him. Drosa nearly danced over the uneven ground, Ishe trundling after her. The hollow cracking of hand-cannon fire hurried them along, as did an anguished roar.

  Only twenty minutes had passed before Ishe saw the ship: a bulbous cargo ship, about half the size of Yaz’noth’s Scale but a similar design. Its main deck was enclosed and sailors were peering out of the wide slot meant for cargo and numerous portholes arranged along its side. The captain had slammed it into the side of the mountain in a large crevasse where the plant life was sparse. Smart positioning. A dragon could smash through a ship, but having rock beneath it prevented them from using themselves as living dropped anvils. Hammer, apparently smart enough to understand that, stood downslop from the ship, hunched up, wings tight against his body, his body glittering with ice and scales pockmarked from earth shells. Flames were licking away at the underside of the ship as Hammer roared forth a stream of flame, raking it across the ship in the manner that you’d use a firehose, but with the opposite effect.

  Screams followed as the flames flowed into the cargo bay, and portholes slammed shut. The flames adhered and began to spread. As Hammer’s torrent ended, his wide maw snapped closed. Sailors sprouted out of portholes and began shooting the flames with blue water and ice shells. Nobody had an angle to put out the fire that burned at the bottom of the airship. Hammer broke the ice that held his feet and trundled closer. A sailor slammed another shell into her hand cannon and took aim at the dragon, only to have something streak from the woods and strike her chest. A crossbow bolt. She slumped over the rim of her porthole like a limp doll.

  Hammer wasn’t alone. He’d brought at least one Dragonsworn with him.

  “Charge! NOW!” a voice called out from the direction the bolt had come from. Miss Cog.

  Drosa drew an arrow, her hair and the arrowhead nearly igniting with brilliant light. Hammer’s charging bellow turned to a cry of pain as the arrow embedded itself right below his eye and exploded in a burst of light.

  Ishe crashed through the underbrush, vaulting over a fallen tree, hand cannon at the ready.

  Miss Cog stood with her back to a tree, frantically cranking the winch at the rear of her crossbow. But she wasn’t alone.

  “BAD BLACKCOAT!” Smooge cried, his lithe silver form popping up from the ground, shielding Miss Cog. Ishe fired her ice shell directly into his opening gullet as it filled with flame. The blue shell exploded among the little dragon’s teeth, and the ice enveloped his entire head, flowing down the dragon’s neck and encasing his shoulders. For a moment, the flame boiled against the ice until it shattered at the corners of Smooge’s muzzle. Twin gouts of flame shot to either side of the young dragon, bathing the forest floor.

  “Hammer! To me, Hammer!” Miss Cog screeched. “Smoogie, get up! Get behind me!”

  Ishe dived back the way she had come, taking cover behind the fallen tree. “Drosa, keep that dragon busy!” she called as her fingers fumbled with the unfamiliar hand cannon; the release wasn’t precisely where it should be. All the shells were ice and water, only able to slow down dragons, but an ice shell was as good as fire against human flesh.

  To her side she heard whoops of ba
ttle: Unyet and the warrior engaging with Hammer. Hopefully, they’d buy her enough time. Snapping an ice shell into the breech of the firearm, Ishe rolled to the right and risked popping her head up over the log. No crossbow bolt greeted her eyes. There was no sign of Miss Cog near the tree she’s been beside a moment before. “Give it up, Cog!” Ishe shouted, eyes scanning, looking for any movement that might betray the woman. “You’re outnumbered.”

  A human scream sounded. Miss Cog might not be outnumbered for long. Ishe glanced up the hill to see Hammer barreling down the slope toward her.

  “MISS COG!” he bellowed.

  Ishe turned and fired on instinct. The shell hit him between the eyes. The ice spread over his eyes, but he kept coming like an enraged buffalo, mouth drooling molten rock.

  “ISHE, RUN!” Drosa’s shout got Ishe moving, scrambling deep into the forest. Her body tumbled behind a tree as Hammer’s bulk slammed into the log she had been hiding behind. The ice shattered as the dead tree broke into two peices from the force of impact. Both halves flew like lethal projectiles. One slammed into the tree Ishe hid behind, and even she heard its scream of pain as its trunk cracked.

  “Flame them all, Hammer!” Miss Cog commanded as Ishe’s fingers found the release on the hand cannon. Click. Slam. She reloaded and peeked out around the trunk of the tree.

  “I get them. I get ’em all!” Hammer huffed out twin streams of smoke through his nostrils. Behind him, Unyet and three of his warriors let loose with a salvo of hand-cannon and crossbow fire. Following in Hammer’s wake, none of them were near cover. The two green earth shells made the dragon flinch but nothing more than that. As he opened his mouth, Ishe shouted a warning and ducked back.

  The world became fire. Smooge’s flame had made the wet forest floor smoke, but this was a torrent of lava; the burning heat swept from one side to the other. Ishe cried out in pain as she felt her shoulders sear. Her voice joined with the chorus of the forest searing around her. Flame sprang up on either side of her, hungry for the unburned ground she stood on.

  A whisper in her ear: “Move, Ishe!”

  Ishe dived into the flames, rolling into an area of hot ash, then tanding up in it. She saw her shot.

  Aim.

  Fire.

  Miss Cog had been sprinting for Hammer’s backside, Smooge ahead of her. Hammer’s attention being on those that had just shot him had left Cog’s run unsheltered from Ishe’s new angle.

  Their eyes met in the moment Ishe pulled the trigger. Miss Cog flung herself forward, displaying reflexes unsullied by her age. And by all rights, she might have dodged the shot entirely had it been aimed for her. Instead, Ishe’s shot hit the ground right at the point where Miss Cog’s feet left it. A wave of supernatural cold pulsed out the point of impact. Ice shot up Miss Cog’s boots, continued up her calves, and engulfed her knees before her momentum carried her beyond the cold’s reach.

  A frozen knee hit a stone on her way down and shattered.

  Ishe’s view was filled Smooge’s silver teeth. “No hurt my Cog!” he screeched at as he charged over Hammer’s body. Ishe barely got her arm between his maw and her head. He chomped down and pain lanced up her arm as the teeth sliced through flesh and bit into her bones. With a jerk, Ishe’s feet lost their grip on the ground as she was flung. Blood trailed from the bite on her arm before the arc of her flight was terminated by another tree. Pain blossomed as she bounced off, and the gnarled roots came up to meet her.

  The world went white.

  “NAH!! POKIES!” Smooge cried.

  “Smoorgie! Get back here!” Miss Cog shouted.

  Ishe looked up. Smooge had an arrow lodged in his neck, and the wooden shaft burned as red-hot blood oozed up around it. His chest heaved as Hammer’s did before the flame.

  Behind him, Hammer was backing up, wings lifted slightly to shield the human on his back.

  Two more arrows struck Smooge in the side with a twin burst of light. He staggered to the side, breathing out his fire in an anguished gasp that barely reached five feet.

  “Smooge, time go,” Hammer boomed.

  The small dragon gave Ishe one last hiss of threat, then turned and ran, his long legs propelling him like a gazelle as two more arrows streaked by. Using Hammer’s nose as a springboard, he vaulted onto the larger dragon’s back.

  With Smooge secured, Hammer wheeled around and began to run, his wide tail curling upward to protect his passengers. Still, Ishe heard Smooge’s voice called back to them. “I get you, Blackcoat! I roast you alive!”

  Slender leather-clad legs obstructed Ishe’s last look at Hammer’s retreating tail. Ishe peered upward to find Drosa standing over her. Two arrows nocked in her bow, trained on the retreating dragons.

  The crackling of spreading fire surrounded them as the leathery flap of wings faded through the forest. A cheer from up the hill followed it.

  Drosa lowered her bow and whispered a curse so strong that the very air chilled around them. Turning, she knelt and fixed Ishe with an angry glare. “Can move?”

  “Yeah,” Ishe said with a pained breath.

  “Don’t.” Drosa pulled out a leather strap and cinched it tightly around Ishe’s arm, just below the shoulder. “This like fighting enraged mountain goats with fists.”

  Ishe’s head swam as Drosa pulled her up to her feet. Drosa laughed as she pulled Ishe’s good arm around her shoulders. “And here I wondered why we not all dead. That why.” She pointed, and there, in a patch of frosted leaves, lay the lower half of Miss Cog’s leg. The ice around it shone wetly as it melted, a perfect cross-section of red and bone where it had broken off. “I mad Unyet give you a useless weapon.”

  Ishe’s grunted. “A couple of earth shells wouldn’t have gone amiss. A single one would have made Smooge defenseless against your arrows.”

  “They have names. Smooge and Hammer,” Drosa observed. “Come, they have big healing crystal up hill.”

  Together they limped their way up the hill.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Racing skiffs are fun, but we don’t use them in the Fleet. While useful as scouting tools, they’re a good way to lose a promising pilot. It doesn’t take much to smack them out of the sky.

  Private letters of Tabi Arai

  Ishe knew she should still be with the other wounded clustered around Unyet’s healing crystal. Her arm had stopped bleeding, and with Drosa’s assistance, they had sewn the flaps of torn muscle back together. Wounds never hurt as bad as they should, and now, in the dark belly of the Swollen Rabbit, a numbing cold seemed to be radiating from the very bones of her arm. She tried not to think about the fact that she could only twitch her fingers as she followed the ship’s captain through the maze of crates and barrels.

  “It’s right up here!” The round man ahead slipped between two narrow crates as if he possessed not a single bone in his body. Captain Small Winter’s eyes had practically leapt out of his grid-marked head when Unyet had introduced her as Ishe of Madria. “It is destined for a client in the Golden Hills, but I believe I can endure his wrath in exchange for the favor of the Silver Fox,” he said as Ishe negotiated the narrow passage, trying not to bump her arm in its sling.

  Ishe stopped dead when she saw the sleek hull that had been hidden behind a wall of crates. The low form of the most elegant airship Ishe had ever seen rested on a row of custom-built braces. Shaped like a dragon’s scale, the hull had two tones of wood that flowed into each other with sharp geometric designs that reminded Ishe of roots and branches; it used both Valhallan and Golden Hills liftwood. Despite that detail, it was the folded sails hugging either side of the ship that drew Ishe’s awe. Folded wings like those of a dragon. It wasn’t an airship at all. It was a glider outfitted with more than enough liftwood to keep it airborne indefinitely.

  “May I present Dancing Fly.” Small Winter thumped the side of the vessel affectionately.

  Only about fifteen feet long, it had one pilot’s seat and two benches for passengers behind it, five people, max. I
she peered at the controls; a power crystal the size of her fist shone from the middle of an arc of eight levers. Two pedals rested beneath twin coils of wire, power regulators; those would control the flow of current to the liftwood. Ishe kicked over a smaller crate as a stepstool and used her good hand to pull herself onto the little air ship’s deck.

  Ishe grinned as she took the pilot’s seat, replaying the battle in her head. Miss Cog had been using Hammer as conservatively as she could, protecting his fragile wings at any cost. Had Captain Small Winter offered Ishe of his skiffs, she would have taken it, though she’d be a duck against a hawk in the sky; she’d have to wait until nightfall and pray. But with this, Hammer would have to be aggressive to catch her. And that would leave him exposed to Drosa’s arrows or a well-placed ice shell.

  No time to go all the way through the Grand Torii, but if she flew directly to a naval vessel with a white flag raised, Yaki would be sure to hear of her capture. Then… Then this whole farce would be done.

  As she pressed the pedals experimentally, the power crystal hummed to life and the craft shifted. Running her hand over the wood Ishe, could feel the energy there, like a runner posed at the start of the race.

  There were plenty of ifs between there and victory, but Ishe found herself laughing in anticipation of soaring through the sky again.

  “Oof!” Captain Winters rolled over the side, and the little ship fell back into the braces. Ishe gave it a bit more juice to compensate, and in a second, they were gently rising toward the ceiling. “Float it up!” he called, picking up a stout staff from the deck. Once the craft had cleared the majority of the cargo stacks, he used the staff to push against the ceiling, to guide the craft toward the ramp in the center of the cargo bay.